When The City's Finally Sleeping
by mush14meyers
Summary: For years, Tetris has lived alone in Manhattan, sleeping on one of the rooftops above the city. No one ever paid much attention to her until a newsboy, who seems determined to become her friend, asks her to buy a paper.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: So this group of lovely boys deemed, "The Newsies,"... Yeah, unfortunately, they're not mine.

WOO! I'm back! Alright. So a long time ago, I promised my good friend, (and beta reader) Tetris, A newsies fic. It's taken me quite a while to write, and she's been very patient... Aside from the constant pestering for the last two weeks or so, of course... So this is dedicated to her. Enjoy, Ris :)

I'm going to be posting this story in three or four parts. It's not very long, nor are the ideas extremely fresh, (you tend to run out of scenarios by the time you've written about a dozen other stories) but I tried my hardest, so honest feedback would be greatly appreciated :D. And here goes.

* * *

The edges of the sun peaked out from over the chimneys. I sat where the cold concrete of the rooftop was still covered in shadow. The damp morning air touched my skin, making me shiver. 

For one reason or another, I had woken up when it was still dark. It hadn't been the heat or the heaviness of the summer night that forced me out of sleep like usual. No; this night I had woken up for no reason at all. Unable to fall back asleep, I watched the stars fade into daylight.

I pulled the hole-filled blanket closer around me. It was one of the only things that I owned. My only belongings were pushed off into a corner of the rooftop that I considered my home.

The building below was a meat market owned by a middle-aged butcher and his wife. He never had any reason to come up to the roof, so my living on top of his business was completely unknown to him. I'm sure he wouldn't have allowed it had he known, but as far as I was concerned, I did nothing to bother him. I didn't affect his commerce. No one knew I was up here. I wasn't causing any harm.

Slowly but surely, the city was starting to come to life. Just as the suns' rays reached far enough to cover the rooftop with warmth, I began to hear the noises of the busy morning below me. Neighbors walked out of their apartments and greeted each other on their way to work. Women hung their laundry out on clotheslines. The creaking of carriage wheels filled the air along with the distinct calls of newsboys.

I glanced down to see three boys wandering through the alleyway between the meat market and the flower shop. They were probably taking a shortcut to the boxing ring; it would be teeming with people on a day like today. The three talked and laughed loudly as if they were completely carefree. Even after they had turned the corner at the end of the alley, I kept my eyes on that spot for a while.

A gnawing in my stomach broke me out of the daze. I hadn't eaten since the morning of the day before, and all I had eaten was an apple I managed to buy with the spare cent I found lying on the sidewalk. Still, I wasn't hungry enough to snatch anything off of the stands owned by the street vendors today. I wasn't one for stealing, and even though I didn't have any rules to live by, I knew right from wrong. Food was the only thing I would dare to steal, and only when it was absolutely necessary.

In order to avert my mind from the hunger, I decided to go for a walk. After tucking my belongings safely under the ledge, I climbed down the fire-escape and onto the cobblestone streets.

I was rarely awake to see Manhattan in the early morning; having nowhere I had to be, I often slept as long as I wanted. But there was nothing I loved more than watching the city come to life. As I walked, I noticed that more and more people filled the sidewalks until they were teeming. Adults bustled from vender to vender, carrying baskets of food, while children played in the alleys and gutters.

Having lived in the city since I was about five, I knew my way around. I wasn't too familiar with the other Burroughs, but I knew just about every street, store, and shortcut in Manhattan.

I wandered the streets until about noon, my hands in my pockets and my mind oblivious as to where I was headed. I ended up in front of a chain of stores on one of the main roads. My legs beginning to ache, I sat myself down on the curb and rested my chin in my hand.

The passing crowd didn't offer me a second glance; they weren't phased by a teenage girl plopping herself down on a busy sidewalk. There was enough poverty in this city to fill an infinite number of jails, orphanages, lodging houses... Wherever they decided to put us. "They" being the wealthy people of New York City. Because, although less numerous than the poor, they existed here, too.

I turned my head and squinted into the bright sun when someone tapped me on the shoulder. Placing my hand above my eyes to shade them from the light, I tried to get a look at the silhouette staring down at me.

"Buy a paper, miss?"

He tilted his head in a way that blocked the sun from my view. I slowly brought my hand away from my forehead as I stared at him. The boy, most likely around my age, looked down at me with brown, chocolate colored eyes. His hair was just as dark, long enough to be seen from underneath the beige cabby hat. A soft smile pulled at the edges of his mouth.

Completely dumbstruck, I told myself to answer him, but I was at a loss for words. It had been over two weeks since someone had spoken directly to me, and that time it had only been because I was crossing the street when a carriage rolled by. The driver then proceeded to slow down only enough for me to barely scrape by, all the while yelling at me to, "Move!"

"Does it look like I'se got any money?" I shot, turning back to face the street. I hadn't expected the reply to come out sounding so hostile, but it was true. I didn't have any money to spare for breakfast; never mind the morning edition of _"The World." _

I had expected him to leave, but I still felt his presence behind me. I furtively glanced to the side to see him sit next to me on the curb. He placed his stack of newspapers on the ground underneath his legs and turned to look at me.

"Well, I'se sorry, Miss... I didn't think too deep into it; I'se jus' doin' me job."

His stare made me feel uncomfortable. I directed my gaze down, letting my eyes wander all over the cobblestone bricks. The carriage wheels, which were just about all I could see from this angle, squeaked through muddy puddles that had collected in the road.

"Would ya please stop callin' me dat?" I asked. I was glad to find that my voice hadn't come out so demanding this time; it was more of a request, if anything.

The newsboy's dark eyebrows curved upwards and his smile turned into a pensive frown. "Callin' ya what, Miss?"

"Dat. Miss. Quit callin' me Miss."

His eyebrows furrowed even more. "Oh... I'se sorry. What would ya rather me call ya, den?" he asked.

I carelessly shrugged a shoulder and turned the back of my head to him without responding. Even though we were sitting on one of the busiest, noisiest sidewalks in Manhattan, silence seemed to ring out.

"I'm Bumlets," he said. I looked over my shoulder to see that he was offering his hand out towards me. When my eyes wandered up to meet his, he smiled the same warm smile that he had before. My gaze went back down to his outstretched hand. I must've stared at it for a minute straight, but he didn't pull away.

"Tetris," I said finally, hesitantly placing my hand in his. We shook.

He pulled his hand away and the two of us fell into silence again. After nothing was said for over five minutes, I, once again, expected him to leave. But he, once again, didn't.

"You look hungry," he commented, searching my face.

"I ain't," I lied. "And how is someone supposed to _look_ hungry?"

Bumlets seemed taken back by my sarcasm. He raised an eyebrow at me. "Ya jus' look pale, is all I meant...Like ya ain't eaten in a while."

"Maybe dat's jus' da way me skin looks normally."

He put his hands up in defense. "A'right, a'right... I ain't tryin' to offend you or nuttin', Miss- Er, Tetris. It was jus' me way of offerin' to take ya for some lunch, is all..." Bumlets sheepishly lowered his head to stare at his feet.

_Me and my defensiveness... All he was trying to do was be nice, and I just jumped all over him._

"Oh... Sorry; I didn't mean to..." At a loss for words again, I let my voice fade out and just sighed instead. "Thanks anyway."

Bumlets nodded and got to his feet, grabbing his papers on the way up. "A'right, den. Nice meetin' ya, Tetris." He turned his back to me, paused for a moment, and then faced me again.

"How about dinner, den? I mean, you'se gotta be hungry by den, huh?"

I couldn't help the slight smile that pulled at the corner of my mouth. As much as I tried to tell myself that I just wanted him to _leave,_ he was being really sweet. Still, I shook my head and tore my gaze away. I couldn't let him pay for my dinner; Newsboys' weren't much better off than I was. The little change they carried around in their pockets was just enough to keep them alive.

"Aw, why not?" he asked.

"'Cause," I began, shaking my head again. "I ain't got any money to pay ya back."

"Dat's a'right; you don't gotta. It don't matter."

"It_does_ matter," I insisted.

Bumlets sighed and lowered himself so that he was kneeling down next to me. "Look," he said, locking his eyes with mine. "I always go to dis place for dinner wit me best friend, Itey. You ever hoid of Tibby's?"

I nodded. The restaurant was down the street from the meat market, located on the corner of the block.

"Dey serve dese real great fries dere, 'nd dey come in dis _huge_ basket... I'd never be able to finish 'em by meself, so me 'nd Itey always order da fries and split 'em," Bumlets explained. "But it jus' so happens dat Itey's stayin' in Queens tonight. Apparently he's got a goil dere now, so I'se on me own for dinner dis evenin'... Unless, a'corse, you join me."

I sighed. "I dunno..."

"C'mon... Otherwise I'm jus' gonna have to leave half-a-basket of really great, uneaten fries on da table..." He raised an eyebrow and shrugged, as if to say, _"What's the harm in going?"_

"Fine," I muttered.

Bumlets' persuasive expression broke and I couldn't help but mirror his contagious grin. "A'right, den. So I'll meet ya in front of Tibby's around... say, six?"

I shrugged. "Fine by me."

After nodding and offering a small wave, Bumlets stood up again and turned to walk away.

While watching him disappear through a break in the crowd, I wondered how he had managed to get me to agree to this. I bit back a smile.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own newsies, and I don't own Bumlets. Because if I did, I'd be out parading around New York City with him instead of writing stories about it.

Hi guys :D Sorry (especially to Tetris) it took me so long to get this out... I haven't had any time to edit, and since my beta reader kind of isn't allowed to see this until it's posted, I refused to let her help me with it.

Thanks to SuNsHiNe and GiGgLeS, ImaSupernaturalCSI, washedaway56, Tetris, ktkakes, Kutestar94, and Trignifty for your reviews!

And on with the Bumletsness.

* * *

"So, Tetris, huh?" Bumlets asked, absentmindedly twirling his napkin around on top of the table. "Interestin' name."

"Yours ain't exactly normal, either," I pointed out.

"Mines a nickname."

"So is mine."

Bumlets stared at me curiously for a second with his eyebrows furrowed. I began to get nervous under his stare. Finally, he laughed. "Yeah, I figured..." Still, he didn't turn his gaze away. "Lemme guess; you'se one of dose goils who don't take nothin' from nobody," he said.

I shrugged. "I try not to let people get to me."

The waiter approached our table and put the basket of fries down. "Is there anything else...?" he asked, directing his question towards Bumlets.

He shook his head. "We'se good, thanks." The waiter nodded and, tucking his notepad into his apron pocket, retreated back into the kitchen.

"So..." Bumlets took a French fry, dipped it in some catsup, and put it in his mouth.

"So," I repeated.

He looked around the small diner, wondering what to say to start a conversation. "So how long've ya lived heah?"

Taking a sip of my water, I shrugged. "A while."

'Yeah, so have I. Came here when I was 'bout seven wit me parents 'nd brudders, but I ain't shoah where dey are now. I lost 'em gettin' off da boat. Dey was held back while I was able to weasel me way through,' Bumlets told me. He didn't seem phased by the story, like he had told it over and over again in the past, but his dark eyes still showed remorse. "So how about you?" he asked, changing the subject. "How'd you end up here?"

I shrugged again. "Jus' did."

Bumlets sighed and put down the French fry he had been nibbling on. "You don't like to talk much, do ya?"

"I talk jus' fine when I want to," I replied.

To be honest, I hadn't had anyone to talk to for over three years. Sure; sometimes street rats like me would start up conversations about the bulls or recent happenings in the city, but none of them ever bothered to ask about my past or how I had ended up here. None of them had ever cared enough.

Catching a glimpse of his expression. I let my head drop. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I'm jus' not used to..."

"Don't worry 'bout it," he said, offering me a smile. "i'll jus' do da talkin', a'right?"

Bumlets and I sat in Tibby's for a long time. Customers came in and out of the restaurant, eating, paying their checks and leaving, but we still sat there hours after we finished our dinner. Which, by the way, was too big for the both of us to eat the whole thing.

He talked about his friends and his angles and all of his memories from when he was a kid, but Bumlets didn't ask me any more questions. He let me sit there and listen, nodding and offering comments when I wanted to.

"It's gettin' real late," Bumlets pointed out, catching a glimpse out of the large window in the front. The diner was slowing down. The last set of people who had come to grab a late dinner were leaving now. "Whadda ya say we get outta heah, huh?"

I nodded and stood up from the table, stretching my legs out. Bumlets left the seven cents on the table for the meal and we walked out together.

He and I stood in front of the restaurant, dodging glances underneath the light of the gas lamps hanging next to the door.

I cleared my throat, finally forcing my eyes to meet Bumlets'. "So, uh... Thanks for dinner. I really appreciate it," I said lamely, sticking out my hand to shake his. He nodded and grasped onto the handshake.

"Yeah, don't mention it..."

I smiled awkwardly and took a few backward steps in the direction of the butcher shop. "Well... I'm dat way." I said, pointing over my shoulder with my thumb.

"I'm dat way," Bumlets replied, tiliting his head in the opposite direction. "But how 'bout I walk ya home? Ya really shouldn't be wanderin' da streets alone dis time of night."

Biting my lip, I shook my head. "Thanks, but I really don't think dat's much of a possibility."

Bumlets cocked his head to the side. "Why's dat?"

"It would require me to have a home."

He nodded understandingly. Just about every orphan in Manhattan had been out on the streets at one time or another. "Why don't ya jus' come wit me, den? I can probably get ya a bunk at da lodging house for da night," Bumlets offered.

"Nah, I'se got my own place to sleep. It might not be much of a home... I'se sort of got a roof under me head instead of over me head, but it's fine jus' da same."

Bumlets laughed. "Well, let me walk ya to yer roof, den," he insisted.

* * *

"Dere's eight rungs. Watch yer step," I warned.

Bumlets, barely able to see where he was going through the darkness, caught his foot on the last rung of the ladder and tripped forward onto the rooftop.

I went off into a fit of hysterics. "Shh!" I whispered, all the while trying to conceal my own laughter. Shaking violently, I offered my hand to help him up. He shot me a glare filled with mock anger, but he accepted my help anyway.

"Jeez, Ris, you'se losin' it..." he commented.

Taking a few breaths to calm myself, I managed a shrug. "I'se jus' real tired," I replied, leading him over to the corner of the roof with my belongings. I took my blanket out from underneath the ledge where it had been hidden. I spread it over the cooling concrete and sat down, letting my legs hang off the side of the building. I motioned for Bumlets to join me and he sat down beside me, but he cautiously pulled his legs closer to him and glanced anxiously over the edge.

"...Ris?" I asked, finally processing what he had called me.

"Yeah." He shrugged, still eyeing the large drop between the roof and cobblestone. "Tetris, Ris... Nickname for yer nickname." Bumlets tore his eyes away and looked at me instead. "Why? Ya don't want me to call ya dat? I won't if ya don't like it..."

I tilted my head to the side, contemplating the name. "I think I like it," I decided.

Although I was facing the city below us, I could hear the smile in Bumlets' voice. "Good."

Silence followed for a while. We sat there without speaking, watching as lights were turned off in apartment after apartment and all the windows went dark. The light breeze whistled across chimneys and through alleyways. Carriages stopped creaking and there were no longer footsteps of people walking the streets.

"Incredible view, ya got up here..." His voice wasn't much higher than a whisper, and had it been daytime it would have been impossible to hear, but it seemed like the entire city was asleep except for us.

"I know," I whispered. "I love it."

Bumlets sighed and carefully inched his way backward from the edge. When he felt like he was at a safe distance, he stood up. "I really should be gettin' back," he said.

He offered his hand towards me. Lightly taking it, I brought my legs back over the ledge and got to my feet.

"I really enjoyed yer company tonight," he told me.

I bit my lip and smiled. "Yours, too. Thanks again." My eyes wandered from his face to his hand, and I blushed when I realized that he was still holding onto mine.

Almost hesitantly, he quickly brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed it. After that, he couldn't look me in the eye. Bumlets dropped my hand and made his way to the other side of the roof where the ladder was. "Night, Ris," I heard him mumble. I caught one last glimpse of him before he disappeared down the side of the building.

I absentmindedly grabbed my blanket and curled up in my corner of the rooftop, so lost in thought that I was barely aware of anything. For hours I lied with my eyes wide open, staring at the brightening sky and wondering how on earth I was supposed to sleep with those annoying butterflies in my stomach.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership over any of the Newsies. Disclaimers are so depressing.

Hiya :D.! After much nagging and begging and threatening from Tetris (the real Tetris) I am back with another chapter. This is the second to last one.

ImaSupernaturalCSI, washedaway56, energizerturtle45: Thanks so much for your reviews! I lurve you guys :D

* * *

"Mornin', Tetris!" 

I groaned and rolled over. Sensing the bright morning sunlight through my closed eyes, I wondered who would _dare_ wake me up before noon.

"C'mon, Ris!" he said cheerfully, shaking my arm. "Wake up!"

Squinting in the overpowering light, I opened one of my eyes to see who was bugging me. Bumlets was kneeling next to my blanket, a wide smile on his face.

"What gives, Bumlets!? It's, like, seven in da mornin'!"

"Six," he corrected. "But ya really shouldn't complain. I'se up by dis time every single day."

I glared at him with a look that told him I wasn't amused. "You're nuts," I said flatly, rolling over again so my back was to him.

"Aw, c'mon, Tetris," he begged. "Ya mean to tell me I spent over an_hour_ tryin' to find ya, just so you could tell me I'se crazy, roll over, 'nd fall back asleep?"

"Dat's about da size of it," I muttered.

Bumlets sighed. "Ya don't realize how many damn rooftops dere are in Manhattan, New Yawk, till you'se searched 'bout half of 'em for one particular goil."

"Ya were heah jus' last week," I mused, thinking back to the night he had walked me back after dinner at Tibby's. "Ya knew where it was; what do ya mean ya had to search for it?"

"You kiddin' me? It was so dark out, we coulda been sittin' on top of a mountain 'nd I wouldn't have known it," Bumlets said. "I barely had a clue where I was. Findin' me way back to da lodgin' house dat night was pure luck."

I laughed and turned to face him. He grinned when he saw that my eyes were finally open. "Good! Now you'se awake... So you comin' or what?"

"Comin' where?" I asked, yawning.

He shrugged. "Well, foist I figured we'd grab some breakfast…"

I rolled my eyes. "You know I ain't got any money for dat, Bumlets."

"Dats why I'se payin," he stated. "And den I figured we'd…"

"No way," I replied. "I ain't got any money to pay ya back, either."

"Would ya jus' lemme finish?" he asked. "You _will_ have money to pay me back. It's not like I'se gonna accept it, but you'll have da money."

I sighed, muttering a barely audible, "It's too early for this," to myself. "Bumlets… _What_ are you talkin' about?"

"Get up 'nd I'll show you."

I groaned again. "Do I gotta?" I whined.

Bumlets shrugged. "Well, no… But I'd really like it if ya did."

I made the mistake of looking up at his face. His dark, chocolate brown eyes begged me to get up. "Gah. Fine," I muttered, slowly getting to my feet.

* * *

With my eyes half shut, the two of us weaved through the early-morning crowds. Bumlets kept a firm grasp on my arm, knowing that if he wasn't tugging me along, I probably would have found a nice spot on the ground to fall back asleep.

We stopped briefly at a vendor on the side of the road. Taking advantage of the fact that Bumlets had let go of my wrist so he could buy something, I sat down on one of the nearby crates and let my head rest in the palm of my hand. I was just about to nod off when Bumlets gently pulled me to my feet.

"You shoah you'se a'right?" he asked again.

I nodded and smiled drowsily. Sighing, Bumlets ripped the loaf of bread in half, put a piece in my hand, grabbed hold of my other wrist and started moving again before I could argue.

I wasn't sure where he was taking me, but at the time I was too exhausted to care. I stumbled along behind him without questioning anything.

With about a block more to go, Bumlets got tired of my continuous tripping over curbs and peoples' feet. He stopped abruptly, turning around to face me. I opened one of my eyes and groggily looked around. "Why'd we stop?" The words were muffled by a yawn.

Bumlets rolled his eyes playfully and, without warning, put me on his back. After about a minute, my eyes started to shut again and my arms fell idly over his shoulders. He carried me piggyback the rest of the way.

* * *

"Tetris… I'se puttin' ya down now, a'right?"

"Hmm?" I muttered.

"I'se puttin' back down, okay? Ready?"

I felt my feet gently touch the cobblestone ground. Bumlets' hands were on my shoulders, steadying me to make sure I wasn't about to fall over. He carefully let me lean backwards so I was against a brick wall.

"Not a very lively one ya got dere…" someone pointed out.

"She is too," I heard Bumlets say. "She's jus'…"

"She looks jus' bout ready to drop dead."

I opened my eyes and looked at the short newsboy standing in front of me, analyzing me like a piece of art. He stood with his head tilted slightly and his finger tapping pensively on his chin. He was wearing a brown plaid vest and a black cabbie hat. A cigar hung from the corner of his mouth.

"You look jus' bout ready to be decked in da face," I retorted.

The boy looked appalled for a minute. His childlike eyes went wide as he gaped at me. Abruptly, the expression broke and he just laughed.

"I take back what I said 'bout da liveliness," he said, nudging Bumlets in the ribs. "I approve."

"Approve of _what?" _I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bumlets cleared his throat, got ready to say something, and then shut his mouth, pink rising to his cheeks. The other boy laughed again at Bumlets' discomfort and extended his hand towards me.

"Racetrack Higgins." With his other hand, the boy took the cigar out of his mouth and lightly tapped the end, making the ashes fall to the ground.

"Tetris," I replied, accepting the handshake.

As Racetrack pulled his hand away, he glanced over my shoulder at something. Then, nodding as a greeting to whoever it was, he ushered them over.

I turned around to see four boys joining the end of the line.

The first one was the tallest out of the four of them. He stood with his back against the wall, just like I had been doing a minute ago. The boy of about 17 was wearing pink long-johns underneath his suspenders. He didn't seem too happy to be here, but when Racetrack introduced him to me as "Skittery," he broke through his glum expression to offer me a small smile.

The next two seemed to be wide awake. They bumping into the surrounding newsies as they horsed around, wrestling over a navy-blue hat. The one with the brown eye patch held it far away from the other one, who yelled things like, "Blink, give me back dat hat before I soak you so hard your teeth'll fall out your—"

"And dat's Kid Blink and Mush," Race said, motioning to the two boys. They both stopped for a split second, turned to me, smiled, and then returned to their banter.

The fourth stood out from the rest in the way that he was dressed. Instead of a cabbie hat on his head, a black cowboy hat hung from a string against his back. An old red bandana was tied around his neck and a belt made out of rope was around his waist. Racetrack didn't have to introduce him to me; half the city already knew who he was. After the strike in 1899, Jack Kelly was a pretty well-known name around these parts.

"Guys," Racetrack said, motioning to me with a tilt of his head. "Dis is Tetris. I'se assumin' he's Bumlet's goil."

"Race!" Bumlets' eyes went wide and he furtively brought the heel of his foot down on Racetrack's toes.

"Ow! Geeze, Bumlets!" Race clutched his foot, hopping in place to avoid losing his balance. "Did I say goil? I meant, uh… Sellin' partner?"

It was then that I realized we were standing on line at the distribution office. Finally breaking out of my exhaustion now, I hadn't even thought to look around and see what Bumlets had dragged me out of bed for. "You gotta be kiddin' me…" I mumbled.

"…She is yer sellin' partner, right? I mean, I jus' assumed 'cause Itey ain't heah 'nd, well…" Racetrack scratched his head in puzzlement.

"Well, Race," Cowboy began. "When ya assume, you make an ass out of you and…" he paused. "Well, you."

Racetrack sneered at him and turned back to the circulation desk, where a gap in the line had conveniently formed since he hadn't been paying attention. Race moved up, leaving me and Bumlets feeling a bit awkward as the rest of the guys snickered.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Reviews would be incredible if you guys could. 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership over any of the Newsies... Although I'd very much like to.

So this is the last chapter of this story. It was pretty short, but I really had a lot of fun writing it. It was a nice break from the original stuff I've been working on lately, and I enjoyed writing about one of the less-common newsies. Tetris: I'm sorry I tortured you so much with this, and I apologize for the story taking so long, but I really hope you liked it. Now aren't you glad I didn't let you beta this one?. :)

To ImaSupernaturalCSI, washedaway56, ktkakes, Kutestar94, energizerturtle45, SuNsHiNe and GiGgLeS, and Trignifty: As always, you guys have been so nice with sending reviews. Thanks so much!

Oh, and of course, thanks very much to Dotz (SuNsHiNe and GiGgLeS) who edited this one for me while my beta reader couldn't. For obvious reasons. Also, thanks for not telling Tetris anything about it when even she pestered you a crapload.

Mmk, Last chapter.

* * *

"…I'm still not shoah I get it," I said, wandering back over to Bumlets. He and I had been standing on opposite sides of the street, trying to sell to the afternoon crowds who were leaving work for their lunch breaks. 

I pensively scratched my head, comparing the pile of papers in his hands to the pile in mine. I had started with 30 less than him, and while his papes had been decreasing to the point where he was almost caught up with me, my pile hadn't changed at all.

"What am I doin' wrong?" I asked.

He tilted his head to the side as he stared at me. "Beats me," Bumlets muttered. "Lemme see ya try 'nd sell."

I nodded and flipped through the pages of the newspaper on top of the stack. Bumlets stepped back and watched, leaning with his back against the brick wall of the bakery we were standing in front of.

I scanned the headlines for something good, but I couldn't find anything worth hawking. Finally, in the end, I decided on rolling up the newspaper, turning to a random man who was walking down the street, and smacking him with it on the arm.

"Hey, you," I said. "Buy dis."

The man looked horrified. He slapped the paper out of my hand and continued along the sidewalk, hastening his speed. I shrugged and went over to the wall where Bumlets was standing.

"Well, I tried." I slid down the bricks so I was sitting on the ground.

Bumlets laughed. "Dere's no way I'se lettin' ya give up so soon…" He took hold of my hand and pulled me to my feet again. "C'mon… Let's go to Central Park, huh? We'll sell all yer papes without… uh… abusin' da customers."

* * *

The sun had crept below the tops of the buildings hours before, but the heat of the summer day was just beginning to slip away now. The streets were deserted. The windows in the stores were dark, street-vendor carts were taken down, and the people had gone back to their apartments and tenement houses. 

Mine and Bumlets' loud talking and laughter echoed off the empty streets. The late hour combined my lack of sleep put me in a giddy, lighthearted mood. I strolled alongside Bumlets, just about ready to pass out from exhaustion, yet content nonetheless.

"Please jus' take it," Bumlets attempted again, opening the palm of my hand so he could give me the 60 cents he claimed was mine.

I shook my head, gently pushing his hand away. "It's yours… You paid for my papes in the foist place," I replied.

"But you sold 'em."

"Barely," I said, laughing. "You improved da headlines, yelled 'em out, got all da customers to come over… I just handed dem deir newspaper."

Bumlets grinned. "Yeah, but if ya don't take da money, how're you gonna pay for yer papes tomorrow?"

I was about to tell him that, after the hard time I had had that day, I didn't think I would be selling again for a while; but before I could, Bumlets slipped the money into my front pocket.

I sighed and shook my head, reaching for the change so I could give it back again. He wouldn't allow it, though. Bumlets beamed at me and took off running down the sidewalk.

He made me chase after him for a good four blocks, letting me just about catch him before he sped up again. I followed him around a corner, both of us dashing in and out of the halos of streetlamps as we raced down the sidewalk.

"Bumlets! Git back heah!" I yelled through my laughter. My voice echoed back to me off the walls of the alleyways around us.

"Nuh uh!" he called over his shoulder. "Not until ya promise you'll take da money 'nd sell wit me tomorrow!"

He was beginning to slow his pace from a sprint to just a jog. I was finally able to reach out and grab the back of his shirt. Without warning, he stopped in front of a brown corner building and whirled around to face me.

Before I could stop my legs from taking another step, I crashed directly into him. I stumbled backwards and nearly lost my balance, but Bumlets' arms went around my waist. Bumlets went off into a fit of hysterical laughter, but he didn't loosen his hold on me.

"Don't laugh at me," I stated, lightly punching his shoulder. Still, my look of mock-anger faded away when Bumlets looked down at me with a grin that he attempted to suppress. He muttered a half-hearted apology.

I forced myself to look up and meet his gaze. I immediately forgot about why I had been chasing him in the first place. He reached up to tuck a strand of brown shoulder-length hair behind my ear.

Bumlets slowly pulled me in even closer to him and the amused expression fell from his face.

Our faces were no more than a couple of inches away when we heard a door swing open. The two of us looked up.

"Woah… Sorry, Bumlets… I didn't know… I just came out fer a smoke, 'nd…" The boy wearing glasses stood at the top of the stoop in the doorway, uncomfortably ringing out his hands while he muttered a few embarrassed swears under his breath. "Didn't mean to interrupt," He said finally.

Bumlets sighed and cracked a smile. "S'okay, Specs… Ya weren't interrupting anythin'." He took a step back from me. Even in the dim light from the streetlamp, I could tell his face was turning red.

Specs cleared his throat. "Right… Well, uh… Race is jus' about to start a game of poker up in da bunk room if ya wanna go join," he stated, attempting to change the subject.

Bumlets turned to me and raised an eyebrow. "How 'bout it, Ris?"

"Eh…" I shrugged a shoulder. "I dunno… I should be gettin' back to da rooftop. I'se jus' 'bout ready to fall ovah."

"Ah, c'mon," Bumlets said. "Jus' one or two games. It'll be fun. Ya can meet da rest of da guys. Den I'll walk ya home, huh?"

I smiled and rolled my eyes playfully, which Bumlets seemed to take as a yes because he mirrored my expression and grabbed my hand. He led me into the lodging house, passing Specs on the way who avoided our gazes while he lit up a cigarette.

I'm sure the poker game would have been fun, and I'm sure I would have enjoyed getting to know the rest of Bumlets' friends. But soon after Bumlets introduced me to everyone and the game began, I sat on the floor and leaned against one of the bunks to watch. Despite the loud laughter and the bright lights filling the bunk room, I was out cold within five minutes.

* * *

The view from this rooftop was slightly different; a little higher up, a little closer to the upper side of Manhattan. But I could still see the square and Central Park and the East River. The sun still rose above the chimneys of buildings that stretched on and on. 

"Shoulda known you'd be up here. Whats wit you 'nd rooftops anyway, huh?"

His quiet voice startled me. My hands clutched onto the ledge under me, trying to keep my balance. "Bumlets, you'se gonna make me fall off of heah, 'nd den I'll be a pancake on da sidewalk of Duane Street; is dat what you want?"

He chuckled and made his way across the roof, taking a seat next to me. "No," he admitted. "But it'd be yer own fault for sittin' so close to da edge."

I pulled my legs back over the ledge and sat with them crossed, staring out into the city with my chin in my palm. Bumlets followed my gaze, and for a while it was silent between us.

"I was gonna walk ya home last night," He said finally, his eyes lingering on the sunrise over the empty city, "but I really didn't wanna wake ya… Ya seemed so exhausted."

Early that morning, some time around 4 AM, I had woken up in one of the spare bunks in the lodging house. I assumed that the guys had moved me there the night before once I had fallen asleep during the poker game.

"Yeah… I was," I replied. "Thanks, by the way… Ya know, for da bunk."

Bumlets nodded, pensively staring down at the damp, still-shadowed street below us. His eyebrows were knitted together, like he was in deep thought. Finally, he looked up at me.

"Ya should stay here."

I tilted my head to the side, caught off guard by the statement. "What… You mean at da lodging house?"

"Yeah, why not? We'se got room for ya, 'nd da other guys seem to like ya, 'nd it ain't too expensive… Shaoh beats sleepin' on top of a meat market, right?"

"You'se seemed to have overlooked one lil' thing. I ain't a newsie, Bumlets," I drawled.

"So? We'll toin ya into one… I showed ya all da ropes when ya sold yesterday. Dat's about da hardest part to learn."

"I'se terrible at it," I pointed out. "I barely sold a pape on my own."

Bumlets shrugged. "All it takes is a lil' practice. Give it a week; you'll be amazin' at it."

I sighed, folding my arms in my lap. "I dunno…" My voice sounded doubtful.

I heard Bumlets shuffle closer to me. Then, picking up my hand, he laced his fingers with mine. "Please?" His dark eyes begged me to say yes. "I'd really love it if ya stayed."

When I didn't reply, he cracked a smile. "We can be sellin' partners. Da three of us; me, you, 'nd Itey, soon as he gets back."

I laughed. "I doubt ya want me as your sellin' partner… Ya gonna lose all yer customers. Dey don't seem to like bein' smacked wit newspapers so much."

Bumlets beamed at me. Then, slowly leaning over, he closed the distance between us. His lips touched mine and he gave me the kiss that was meant to happen the day before. Butterflies rose up in my stomach and chills ran all the way to my fingertips. My mind was made up; I would stay at the lodging house.

Even after the kiss had ended, he didn't pull away. His arms stayed wrapped around me, and his forehead stayed pressed against mine.

"Hey, Ris?" he whispered.

"Uh huh?" I replied, my eyes still shut.

"Member da day I met ya on da street?"

I nodded. The memory was fresh in my mind. That morning had felt a lot like this one; it had begun on a rooftop in the early morning, looking out over the city while it was still asleep.

I opened my eyes. Bumlets' gaze locked with mine and his mouth turned upwards into a small smile.

"I knew ya didn't have any money on ya."

**THE END. **

* * *

Thanks for reading, guys :) Hope you enjoyed this one. 

I'm not sure when I'll be posting another Newsies fic. I started one a few months ago, but I'm not sure where I'm going with it. And, at the moment, I'm working on two originals. As soon as I get some ideas, though, I'll be back.

-Links


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